Galatea
by paperbkryter
Summary: Set early in Season 2. It seems Dean rebuilt the Impala with a little extra something included.


Inspired by the wonderful Supernatural fic _Lady in Black_ by Tolakasa. (I hope she doesn't mind.)

And dedicated to my favorite auto mechanic, Dukes fan, and Chevy aficionado...

Miss you Dad.

* * *

Bobby stood out in the wrecking yard looking at the fine piece of automobile sitting in front of his office. She had just rolled out of the paint booth out back, and for the past several hours she'd been meticulously and lovingly polished until her black metal skin was as reflective as a mirror.

He believed with all his heart that magic had taken place here. Maybe some of whatever mojo had brought Dean Winchester back from the brink of death rubbed off through the boy's hands, but it was definitely something out of the ordinary. Bobby had seen the twisted, blood-stained wreck this car had once been. It had been practically torn in half.

Likewise, so had Dean.

Miracles, both of them.

Someone more romantic might have suggested love had a lot to do with it – the love of a father for his son, and the love of the son for the father. Somehow the old Chevy had gotten wrapped up in all of it. She meant a lot more to Dean than just transportation. She was the only constant he had in his life, the only home he had really known, and now she and Sam were the only family he had left.

Bobby wasn't that romantic. He wasn't sure he believed in the power of love.

But he did believe in magic.

* * *

There was a naked girl sitting on a tree stump in front of their room.

Sam shut the door.

The first thought that came into his mind involved splinters in sensitive areas.

The second thought was: "What the hell?"

He opened the door again.

"Uh," he said, and realized he should be a little more articulate given four years at college pursuing a law degree. Logic, however, dictated he do a little more investigation before committing to conversing with a potential lunatic and/or person likely to yell, "Rape!" and get him arrested.

A glance to his right, and a glance to his left, revealed no one wandering around the Buck-n-Gun Lodge's parking lot who might be looking for a lost naked girl. He was relatively sure said naked girl hadn't come out of their room because Dean doing a girl would make more than enough noise to wake the dead, let alone Sam, who was not a deep sleeper. Sam had the misfortune to know what his brother sounded like when he came (That Sam blamed on thin walls and an absentee father during their formative teenage years.) and likened it to the wail of a banshee. There might have been mockery had Sam not valued his life.

"Excuse me?"

The girl turned around quickly and stood up, and up. She was very tall, nearly as tall as Dean, and therefore Sam had a very good view of her headlights. Celibate for nearly a year, his brain immediately pointed his eyes in all the wrong directions. It was not the brain located between his ears, which, oddly enough, were getting very hot along with his cheeks. Something else was warming up too, and it wasn't located between his ears.

Luckily the brain between his ears overrode the one between his legs and he was able to concentrate on her face – mostly.

She was dark skinned and dark haired, with ample curves just about everywhere, especially in the rear deck – which wasn't to say she was fat, because she wasn't. She was simply very much a woman in all the places a woman should be. Solid, Sam thought, and could probably kick some ass with her long legs.

Long legs. Wow.

At first glance he'd thought she was African American, and perhaps she was in part, but her features were a little bit sharper, and set above her high cheekbones were a pair of large, round, and very blue eyes. They were so blue they were almost white. The contrast between her dark skin and those pale eyes was kind of creepy until she smiled.

She had braces.

_JAILBAIT_! Sam's mind screamed, and then regressed to complete geekdom with a Monty Python reference.

_RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! _

He squinted at her. No. She was definitely older than eighteen, much older, but by how much he couldn't tell. There was not a strand of gray in her long black hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She just grinned and started walking toward him.

"Uh," Sam turned his head. "Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"There's a naked girl at the door." Which wasn't entirely true, Sam noticed. She did have a leather cord around her neck. A dream-catcher hung from it, resting just above and between her breasts.

_Look up Samuel. Look UP._

Dean yelled from within the room. "What?"

Sam stood aside, pressing himself to the door so Dean could get a look. On her way inside the girl (woman?) paused at the threshold and patted Sam affectionately on the top of his head as if he were a puppy. He certainly felt like a dumbfounded puppy as he cocked his head and knit his brow at her. She didn't notice.

She'd launched herself at Dean.

"Whoa!"

The two tumbled back onto the nearest bed, the girl straddling Dean's prone body as she kissed his face all over in hard little pecks like those of a bird. He was struggling (only a little bit, Sam noted) but she held his face in between her hands and wouldn't let him get away from her. Dean's hands sort of flailed around in the air as he was somewhat reluctant to touch her.

That didn't last long. Butt groping was the path of least resistance.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Sam slammed the door shut. "Now you're picking up girls without even leaving the room?"

"Honest." Dean had to talk quickly between kisses. "I. Didn't. Do. Any. Thing!"

"Then who is she?"

"I. Don't. Know." Both kissers paused for breath. Dean grinned. "But I kinda like her."

The girl pounced on him again, making an odd little noise, something between a squeak and a honk, as she resumed her kissing. Dean helped her out this time, illustrating that lip-locking was far more interesting than bird pecks on the cheek. She was a very fast learner.

Sam leaned over to look. Yep. There was tongue.

"Dean!"

"I. Can't. Help. It!" Dean fought free again, gasping for breath. "I'm just that kinda guy. They love me, Sammy."

"I dunno..." Sam said casually, observing where the girl's fingers were going. "...if love is the term I'd pick. Lust maybe. She looks like she's about to rape you."

"Oh, man. I'm so going to let her."

"Dean."

"What?"

"In a word."

"Yeah?"

"Succubus."

Immensely satisfied with the squawk Dean issued upon realizing this possibility, Sam couldn't help but look smug as his brother squiggled out from underneath his admirer. There was tripping, another squawk, and presently the elder Winchester was scrambling backward from where he had fallen on his ass. He ducked into the gap between the furthest of the two double beds and the bathroom wall. The girl did not pursue. She just stood there with her arms wrapped around herself, grinning happily.

A hand reached up from behind the bed, groped around, and the EMF meter that had been lying there vanished. A moment later Dean's head poked up from his shelter, followed by an elbow, a hand, and the EMF meter.

"She's not a demon," he announced.

Sam rummaged around in his bag and came up with a shirt. He handed it to the girl, arm outstretched as far as it would go so he wouldn't get close enough for her to grab him. "Here. Maybe you should put this on."

She looked at him blankly, and then turned to Dean with a puzzled look on her face.

"Maybe she doesn't speak English." Standing up and tossing the EMF meter back onto the bed, Dean approached warily. "No more kissy, kissy. Oh-kayee?"

Sam put his arm down and looked at his brother in disgust. "Oh, that's brilliant."

"What?"

"Never mind." Turning back to the girl, Sam spoke to her in Spanish, asking her to put on the clothes, _por favor_.

"Where the hell did you learn Spanish?" Dean demanded.

"This place with big buildings and people with books and stuff, and some of the people, like, are called professors who teach other people how to, like, speak other languages and stuff..."

"Smart ass."

"Takes one to know one." Sam grinned. "Well, obviously she doesn't speak Spanish." He pantomimed putting the shirt on, and the girl finally seemed to grasp his meaning. "Maybe she's Native American" He nodded toward the dream-catcher. "Or maybe she's from the Middle East somewhere. "

"Don't tell me you speak that too." Dean grunted. He gently sat the girl down on a bed when she made as if to kiss him again, and helped her button her new shirt. "No. No more kissing...for now." Jerking his head toward Sam he added - "At least not while he's around."

"You're disgusting. She could be suffering from some sort of trauma. Maybe someone attacked her and she's in shock or something." Sam winced. "And we could get in real trouble if we mess around with her. She might think we did it."

"Nah, she's harmless. Probably just partied a little bit too much last night and it hasn't worked out of her system yet."

"The term 'date rape' comes to mind."

"You think someone slipped her something?" Dean glanced back over his shoulder with concern. "That's underhanded." He added something about "_Cheaters_," under his breath.

"Possibly." Sam studied the girl carefully as she gazed lovingly up at Dean. "We really should take her somewhere."

"Where?" Dean mimed drinking, and the girl nodded. He brought her a soda and she made her weird giggle/squeal/honk noise again. The fizz made her eyes water when she gulped down half the can. "See, she's just looking for a drink. Right?" He nodded. The girl nodded back and honked at him.

"The cops maybe..."

"What if she's running from the cops?"

"Oh, like that wouldn't complicate things," Sam snorted.

"Policia?" Dean asked, waving his hand around his head to mimic a flashing light. "Whoo-ah, whoo-ah, whoo-ah."

"Dean, do you have any idea at all how ridiculous you look?"

"Shut up, Sa...omph! Okay, okay. No policia..." With a pained look from within the terrified grasp of his new girlfriend, Dean made his entreaty. "Sam. She's squeezing me to death."

A surreal sort of odd wrestling match followed, which ended with Sam lying on his back with both the girl and Dean on top of him as he attempted to pry his brother loose from her steely grip. She thought the whole thing was funny, honking happily throughout. Neither Sam, who had his breath completely crushed from his lungs, nor Dean who was convinced she broke one of his ribs, were nearly as amused.

If she'd been attempting to wrestle them into a ménage à trois she failed miserably.

Sam made the understatement of the day. "I don't think there's anything wrong with her physically," he announced after regaining the ability to breathe. "But maybe we should take her to the hospital just in case."

Dean nodded, wincing. "Yeah." He plucked his keys up off the dresser and jingled them in front of their uninvited guest. "You want to go for a ride?"

She grinned, grabbed the keys and kissed them.

"Sam, I like this girl."

"Yeah, whatever. Come on."

Their half-naked friend added the keys to the leather cord around her neck, and allowed herself to be led docilely from the room. Once outside, Sam gave the parking lot another perusal to see if anyone was looking for the girl. He didn't notice Dean staring at the wooden stump. There were actually several wooden stumps in the parking lot, each one placed in front of a little lodge, or "room." They all had numbers carved into them corresponding to the room numbers. Each stump designated parking for each cottage.

Something was missing. Sam scowled.

Dean cleared things up for him.

"Dude, where's my car?"

* * *

While Dean was busy at the police station filing a report on his missing car, and trying to explain just why he himself (or who he happened to be at the moment) hadn't stolen said car which was in fact registered to a man named John Winchester who had apparently disappeared twenty-three years prior to the current date...

Sam was at the hospital trying to explain just why he had in his possession a woman who was half naked and did not speak, nor seem to understand English. "_I found her_," wasn't going over well with the hospital E.R. staff nor the resident rent-a-cop from hospital security.

Getting the girl into the hospital without Dean had been difficult. She'd clung, quite literally, to his leg until Sam pried her off and carried her inside the E.R. draped over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She'd beat the hell out of his back until he plopped her down into a seat in the waiting room next to a little boy (who Sam would later find out had several dried beans stuck up his nose) and a man holding a bloody rag to his head from which protruded a nail. The girl examined both of them carefully before turning her attention to the television blaring from the wall in one corner.

Sam didn't notice when a commercial break had her up out of her seat and dancing along with Audrey Hepburn to the tune of AC/DC's _Back in Black_. If he had, he would have been mortified when her high kicks revealed more than what should have been revealed to an eight-year-old with beans stuck up his nose.

"Look. I just need someone to look her over, make sure she's okay, and hand her off to the proper authorities."

"We aren't a charity hospital, and there doesn't look like there is anything wrong with her at all," the duty nurse snorted. She _had_ seen the dancing.

"She doesn't know who she is!" Sam insisted, for the millionth time in the last hour

"How do you know?" The nurse had a lazy eye. She managed to fix it upon Sam with a very wary expression. "Have you asked her?"

"I. Told. You. She doesn't speak English!"

"Hey ya'll. What's up?"

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin. He stared, agape, at the girl who had crept up next to him. She had spoken to them in plain English with a deep, husky voice akin to that of Demi Moore.

Or a phone sex operator, although Sam would never admit to knowing _anything _about phone sex operators, especially phone sex operators with deep voices and Southern accents.

_What had been that operator's name again? Hannah? Helen? Something beginning with H..._

The duty nurse shot him a "I told you so" look before moving off to help someone else. Sam turned around and stared at his companion who grinned up at him brightly. There was something orange stuck in her braces. She'd been sharing cheese puffs with Bean Nose Boy.

"You speak English?"

"General needs an oil change."

"What?"

"Leaky head gasket." The girl said, and then frowned.

The pee-pee dance was universal.

Sam grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her toward the ladies room. "I hope you know what to do in there, 'cause I'm not goin' in with you."

She nodded hesitantly. "Radiator flush and fill."

"Close enough."

"Yeehaawww!"

Everyone in the emergency room waiting area turned to look at them. Sam would have gladly thrown himself into the pits of hell and kissed the yellow-eyed-demon's feet at that moment. He shoved the girl in through the ladies room door before casually leaning up against the opposite wall as if he weren't experiencing the absolute worst embarrassment ever. Even going to school after Dean's little Nair prank hadn't been this bad.

As he waited he noted the presence of Bo and Luke Duke on the television screen. The good-ol-boys were skidding across the General Lee's hood and slipping eel-like in through the windows. Sam knew from experience that slipping eel-like through the windows of an old muscle car wasn't as easy as it looked. He and Dean had tried it once and nearly castrated themselves.

After a few minutes the girl came out of the bathroom, accompanied by a matronly lady who handed Sam's charge back over to him with a sympathetic look.

"Poor dear. She was having a bit of trouble in there. Head trauma I take it?"

"Something like that," Sam muttered. "Thank you." He hastily herded the girl past the waiting area and the glaring duty nurse.

They met Dean just outside.

"Yeehaaaw!"

"Whoa!" Dean caught his girlfriend as she launched herself at him and began hugging and kissing him again. "She talks?"

"She quotes the _Dukes of Hazzard_," Sam said wearily, collapsing on a bench. "Hospital's no help. Any luck at the police station?"

"No." Dean snorted as he joined his brother on the bench. "They had the nerve to suggest I check the local wrecking yard because '_old junker cars_' sometimes get picked up to be busted up in the Friday night demolition derby."

The girl scowled. "Eeeeeeeeet, ccrsssssssssshhhhhhh?" She asked, mimicking the sound of a car crash with alarming accuracy.

"You got it. A lot of crashes."

The girl suddenly burst into tears, threw her arms around Dean's neck, and bowled him over backward off the bench.

"NO CRASH!" she shrieked.

* * *

"We are so screwed." Sam ducked his head, locking his fingers together around the back of his neck. "We've got nothing without that car, and god forbid someone looks in the trunk."

"Who cares about the stuff in the trunk!" Dean was pacing, he'd been pacing ever since they'd come back from their busy day in town. Sam didn't know how he could still be on his feet after all the walking they'd done. "Someone stole my freakin' car!"

"A car like that is kind of hard to miss. The cops will be all over it." Sam looked up."Whoever took it won't get too far."

He couldn't help but smile as Dean ran head on into the girl, who was attempting to follow him as he paced. They'd managed to get her some clothes while they were in town. She'd picked out a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt with a NASCAR logo on it. Oddly, her footwear of choice was a pair of black rubber galoshes, and the floppy boots didn't seem to bother her in the slightest, even on the long walk back.

"It's just weird, Sam. How long have we had that car?"

"I dunno, since forever."

"Here's a clue. Mom bought that car. Mom. Hello!"

This was news to Sam. "She did?"

"Yeah," Dean ran a hand through his hair. "She did." He sat down heavily on the end of his bed. "My point is, Sammy, we _have _had that car forever. We've been all over the damn country in it. Hell, half the time we don't even lock it. So why now? Why did someone take it now?"

His shadow sat down beside him and patted his shoulder sympathetically. She leaned her chin on his shoulder and honked softly in his ear, kissed him, and gave him a hug. Her small attempts to cheer him up fell rather flat.

"I guess because old cars like that have become popular," Sam said. "You know, because of reality shows like _Overhaulin'_, or _Pimp My Ride_."

"Somebody pimps the Impala, somebody gets shot!" Dean growled. His growl turned into what was suspiciously close to a whine. "Maaan, and I just got her put back together." Flopping back onto the bed, he groaned. "We've got to find her."

"Well, there's not much more we can do tonight, not on foot. We'll rent a car in the morning and go out looking. Screw the cops. We'll find her ourselves. Okay?"

Dean was inconsolable. "Yeah, I guess." He yawned. "Man, I'm wiped." He rubbed his eyes and yawned again. "You shower first tonight, dude."

Sam was all for that. When he'd been in school he'd gotten used to walking all over campus, but since hooking up with Dean again they drove everywhere. The day's hiking had been brutal. A nice hot shower would soothe aching muscles and relax him. He hoped the girl wouldn't get any ideas about joining him in the shower. Talk about awkward.

She didn't. Sam was relieved.

He exited the bathroom in a swirl of steam. "Done. You might want to wait a few for the hot water to..."

Dean wasn't listening. Dean wasn't conscious, and neither was his foundling girlfriend. He was sprawled across the bed just as he'd been when Sam went into the bathroom. The girl was curled up against his side like a puppy, one arm draped protectively across his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Both of them were snoring.

"Great," Sam muttered, slipping the television remote out of his brother's slack fingers. "I guess I'm in for a long, lonely night."

* * *

He fell asleep during Letterman, and woke up sometime before dawn. The girl was sitting on the end of Dean's bed where Dean still lay fast asleep and snoring. Her legs were tucked up to her chest, her booted feet resting upon the mattress, as she watched television with rapt fascination. When she noticed Sam was awake she turned the volume down and moved to sit in a chair near his bed.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked. Somehow he knew she'd answer.

"Trouble sleeping," she said, nodding. "Watch television. Learn English."

"You're a regular E.T." Sam said around a yawn. He sobered quickly. "Oh, whoa! You aren't are you?"

"No." She smiled. "Not outer space alien."

Her smile, Sam noted, was a rather sad smile. He sat up and inched down to the end of the bed to sit beside her. "So. Now that you're talking, do you remember who you are? Do you have a name?"

"Yes. I remember more names. More, and more." She held up two, and then three fingers before shrugging and nodding her head toward Dean. "But I like what he names me."

To Sam's knowledge Dean hadn't called her anything but "that mute chick" or "the girl" during the day she'd been with them. "What's that?" he asked.

"Baby. " She grinned broadly. "But Baby not a baby."

"It's a term of endearment," Sam explained gently. "It means he likes you."

"Oh no," Baby corrected. "He _loves_ me." The sad look returned. "But I think...not...like this."

"I'm not following."

"This is...nice." She ran her hands down her sides, across her thighs. "Curvy and soft." Her caress turned into an open fisted slap against her chest. Sam actually flinched at the sharp sound the it made. "Not fast. Not strong. Not...important. _Car_ is important."

"Oh, I get it." Sam chuckled. It wouldn't be the first time a girl felt dissed by Dean's obvious obsession with his car. "He's just upset that it's gone is all."

"Not gone. Changed." Leaning forward, Baby's eyes seemed to glow in the faint blue light of the television screen. Her stare was intense, unnerving. Sam felt like a deer caught in headlights. "Magic," she said gravely.

"Magic," Sam replied, cautiously. "You believe in magic?"

"Ghosts. Demons. Magic. I know. I have seen years. Hunted. Seen and fought bad things. Was dead and came back." She pointed at Dean. "Brought me back. Changed me." Her low voice dropped to an even softer whisper. "Now car me gone. Soft body here. Must be magic."

Sam stared at her, and he knew then he had to be dreaming, or at least hoped he was dreaming. Maybe he was being Punk'd, although he doubted even Ashton Kutcher could fit a whole film crew under the bed. Did she say what he thought she'd said?

"Changing lead into gold defies the laws of physics," he said nervously. "It's impossible."

"Nothing impossible." One long finger poked him in the forehead. "Moves things with no touch. Sees future."

"I don't believe you."

"So. You not important," Baby snorted softly. "Dean important."

"Well, that's a switch." Sam muttered, reflecting back on recent, unnerving events involving one demon and its mysterious riddles. He kind of liked not being important.

She seemed to pick up on his meaning. "Sam important to bad demon. Makes Sam not important to me."

If he was dreaming, Sam thought to himself, then he had nothing to lose. Right? He could play along with this screwed up broad and not be considered certifiably insane. Yes?

"You're just pissed off because of the accident," he said, and the hurt tone in his voice was not entirely feigned. Being important to the demon who had killed his mother wasn't exactly what he wanted to be known for and neither was being the guy who in effect, also killed Baby. "The semi truck thing which, by the way, was _not_ my fault."

"You driving," Baby pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. "Not look both ways. Speeding..."

"I was in a hurry," Sam returned. "And what part of Dean bleeding to death _didn'_t you get?"

"Got blood on seats." She sniffed haughtily. "911 works."

"There was no time for that!"

"Hospital ten minutes away, Sam says."

"What? Oh, you've got to be kid..." Sam stopped, rolling his eyes. "Dreaming or not, I can't believe I'm arguing with a car." Putting a hand to his head, he groaned. "No more watching reruns of _"Knight Rider._"

"Hasselhoff cuter than you. Big in Germany."

"Figures you'd like the guy."

She stuck out her tongue at him.

"I'm going to have to ban you from television. I think you're learning a little too fast." Sam reached across her and picked up the remote from the table. As he did, she caught his arm and fixed him with her gaze again. Their lighthearted banter ground to an immediate, screeching, halt.

Deer in headlights apparently wasn't too far off the mark.

"No more television. No more soft body," she whispered. "This change not good I think. Mistake." Nodding, almost to herself, she added. "Dean needs car."

"I'm dreaming this," Sam replied softly. "Aren't I?"

"Nope. But you go sleep now. Dean say happy good-bye to soft body." The grin was lecherous as she stripped off her t-shirt. "Soft body good for some things."

Sam's jaw dropped. He let out a startled squeak. "What? You what?"

"Night night, Sammy."

She hit him hard, and she hit him fast. The last thing he remembered was her fist coming at him, and that odd, honking laugh.

* * *

"Rise and shine sleepyhead."

Sam groaned as a bag fell on his head, his aching head. "What time is it?" he groaned. He sat up slowly and retrieved the small white bag from where it had bounced off his head onto the pillow. Krispy Kremes. Heaven in the form of fried dough. "Is there coffee?"

"Yep."

"You walk all the way into town?" Sam asked blearily, swinging his legs off the bed and rubbing his jaw. He felt as if he'd been cold cocked by...

A car? Holy crap!

He looked around frantically but saw their lost girl nowhere in the room. "Where is she?"

"The girl? Have no idea. Must have remembered who she was and took off," Dean put his feet up on the table as he picked apart a jelly donut, popped a piece into his mouth, and licked the jelly off his fingers. "When I got up she was gone."

Sam groaned again. "I think she hit me."

"Or drugged you. I'm surprised we didn't wake you up."

It took Sam a minute. "Oh, god. You didn't."

"I didn't, well, tried not to anyway. She was..._very_ persuasive. So I'm not as morally bankrupt as you think" Grinning, Dean shook his head and took a sip of coffee. "But she was hot, Sammy. I mean scorchin! For a girl with addled brains she sure knew what she was doing."

"I'll bet."

Sam thought back to all the crazy things that had taken place in the Impala's back seat over the years. He could recall a couple of wild sexcapades of his own conducted on that broad bench seat, and if he had fooled around back there, Dean _certainly_ had.

Of course she'd known what she was doing, they'd taught it to her.

_I can't believe I'm blushing._

_I can't believe Dean slept with the car._

He choked on a donut.

Dean didn't seem to notice. "I'm guessing her buddy came back to pick her up."

"Buddy?" Sam coughed and reached for the coffee.

"Yeah, the dude who dumped her and stole my car. I think they were in on it together." Dean frowned. "But I don't get it."

Sam stared at him. "Don't get what?" he said hoarsely.

"Why did they do it, and why did they bring the car back? I mean...Sam? Where are you going?"

Breakfast and coffee were suddenly low on Sam's list of priorities. So was trying to piece out the mystery of the non-existent car thief with Dean. He stumbled out of the bed and rushed to the door, throwing it open to look out into the parking lot.

The early morning sun stabbed at his eyes. It took a while for them to adjust. When they did, he saw exactly what he thought he'd see.

With her sleek, black body gleaming in the morning sunlight, and her engine tick-ticking as it cooled from the drive into town, the Impala sat parked right in front of the stump where she should have been twenty-four hours earlier. Twenty-four hours earlier, however, there had been a naked girl sitting there.

"Too much stress, not enough sleep," Sam muttered as he slowly approached the car. "Dean's right. It was just a couple of joy riders playing around with us."

He stopped when he saw the dream-catcher Dean usually kept in the trunk, hanging from the rear-view mirror instead.

"Nah," he breathed. "No way."

Taking a few more steps toward the car, Sam reached out and put his palm down upon her long, black hood. He closed his eyes...

Beneath his hand, he could feel her sigh.

* * *

They were on the road again by lunchtime. Sam had put the strange events of the past twenty-four hours behind him. Weird stuff was S.O.P. for anyone named Winchester. It was just another day in the life. So the car was sentient, big deal. File the knowledge away and move on, there was work to be done.

Their destination was a small town in Idaho. Rumors had surfaced regarding unnatural things wandering around in a farmer's field, things that were making people disappear. The Hunt was on. Sam was relieved to have something more "mundane" to occupy his thoughts.

A car pulled out in front of them from a side road, nearly clipping the Impala's front end as it sped away. Dean braked and leaned on the horn.

"Idio..." He stopped abruptly, startled by the sound coming from beneath the Chevy's hood.

It wasn't her normal cheery, _"BLEEP!"_

The tune was unmistakable.

"_Way down South in the heart of Dixie... "_

After a beat, Sam busted up laughing.

"SAM!" Dean growled menacingly. "What the HELL did you do to my car?"


End file.
